Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Passing Gas

I had to take the girls to the mall with me tonight. First of all, I don't shop unless I absolutely have to. Secondly, I don't take the girls with me unless I am utterly desperate. Needless to say, I was a bit worried as we walked out the door. Brian was MIA (actually, he was being spiritual up at the church with his small group, but I prefer to pretend he abandoned me).

Hope promised to behave and was actually excited to help me pick out something for myself. She is quickly becoming a tween and has been concerned with my lack of desire to wear skinny jeans, so any chance she can speak into my appearance, she's been doing. (I mean seriously--she tried to get me to try on some jeggings at Target. Do I look like someone who would wear jeggings? Not a pretty thought!)

So, we walk into Dillards and Hope starts oohing and aahing over the shoes. The goal was to find a pair of boots, so she immediately found several that she thought would be perfect for me. The saleslady completely ignored us. I can't say I blame her--Caroline and I were looking pretty raggedy (Hope, of course, had dressed for the occasion). All of a sudden, I smelled something horrible. I looked around and Caroline was the only one near me and when questioned, she admitted it was her. Not only did it stink, I knew if the shoe lady got a whiff of it, I'd really never get any help from her.

We quickly moved away from the area where the gas explosion occured, got a pair of shoes in my size and left the mall. She waited until we got outside to let the next one slide. Silent but deadly went to a new level.

From the mall to Target, I had to ride with windows down and heater on full blast. I tried to just roll down the back windows, but I literally choked at one point. She was ripping them one after another and she and Hope could barely breathe between the smell and laughing hysterically!

I never thought I would have daughters--always pictured myself with boys. I would have never, in a million years, thought I would know the fart nicknames my girls have given everybody in our house (by the way, Caroline is SBD--silent but deadly--even before tonight). When Brian and I were dating, I told him that I didn't have to deal with gas from him until there was a ring on my finger (and even after we were engaged, it took him another year before he could do it in front of me since I had trained him so well. After 10 years of marriage, that is no longer a problem).

So, amid the stench, I had to smile (I was scared I would pass out and crash if I opened my mouth wide enough to laugh). Farting was never funny to me, but it certainly was to my girls. Sometimes, as a parent, you have to throw away your expectations of a good time and join in with what's going on around you. Oh, and also pray you don't scare your friends away from posting a blog that's really just TMI.

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